


Tea

by heckmate



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 02:33:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11072250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckmate/pseuds/heckmate
Summary: Webber comes to Maxwell for help when they aren't feeling well one day.





	Tea

**Author's Note:**

> This story was also posted to Tumblr— if you see it there under the same name, it wasn't stolen!

The height of summer had just begun, and even in this early morning, it was sweltering.

Maxwell could feel the heat slowly warming up the interior of his dapper three-piece, even with him huddling close to the endothermic fire. That was the one reprieve from the blazing heat of this season— the blue fire buzzing and swirling in the fire pit. How nice it felt!

He sighed, throwing another log into the fire. He was just happy that it was his turn today to guard the base. Sure, that meant keeping close watch that nothing burned down, but it also meant that he had the fire pit all to himself.

"M… Mr. Maxwell?"

Ah. _Almost_ all to himself.

Maxwell spun around. He'd completely forgotten that Webber was sleeping all this time in their tent, since no one in the camp had the heart to wake them up. That meant that not only did he have to make sure that nothing burnt down— he also had to be a babysitter. One of those things he had agreed to. The other he had not.

"What do you need?" Maxwell snapped back, never bothering to hide his intense irritation.

"It's… it's… a little bit hot in our tent…" Webber said, swaying slightly on their feet.

Maxwell took a closer look at the spider child. They stood there, wearing their little striped pajamas that were far too big for their small body. Webber held on to the Lying Robot (whenever someone dug up a toy, it always went straight to Webber). Maxwell guessed that Webber slept with it like a plush toy— perhaps it was less cuddly and soft, but as long as it brought the kid comfort…

Webber was positively drenched in sweat. Their spider fuzz was plastered down, and the appendages on their head drooped, in contrast to the usual perkiness they possessed. They had heavy bags under each of their eyes, and their mouth slacked in a droopy fanged frown. Goodness, Webber juxtaposed sharply with Maxwell's trim, dapper look.

"Hot, eh? Well, take this thermal stone and sit by the endothermic fire." Maxwell tried to barely acknowledge Webber. _Honestly, just do the bare minimum and maybe they'll leave you alone,_ Maxwell thought bitterly.

But Webber persisted.

"Mr. Maxwell, we don't feel… we don't feel great."

With that, a rattling cough shook Webber's entire small body.

Oh, this was just _wonderful_. Not only did Maxwell have to babysit a child, he had to babysit a _sick_ child.

Maxwell stood up to his towering height and walked over. He placed a hand over Webber's forehead. The heat radiating from them was shocking. Maxwell recalled how warm he himself had felt earlier, even when sitting by the fire. He couldn't even begin to imagine what this heat felt like when coupled with a fever.

"Sit by the fire," Maxwell said again, this time in a _slightly_ gentler tone. "And take this thermal stone, too. Hold it close, you hear?"

Webber nodded.

It looked like Webber would need more than one cool thermal stone, though— it was rapidly thawing and warming up. In addition, even when sitting, Webber looked like they were going to fall over any moment.

Immediately, Maxwell steadied Webber and walked over to his personal chest, where he kept all of his belongings.

"I know I have a straw roll in here," Maxwell muttered, digging through the chest. " _Unless someone took it_ … no… no, here it is. Yes. Here."

He walked back over to Webber and spread the straw roll out on the floor. "Lay down."

Webber obliged. "Thank you M… M… Aaaah… ACHOO!"

Maxwell hopped out of the way of a stray drop of mucus, doing his best to hide his repulse. "Look, pal, you need to cover your mouth," he snapped, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and bending down, handing it to the miserable spider.

Webber blew their nose— their nostrils? They really didn't have a nose— and looked up at the man. "Thank… thank you, Mr. Maxwell. We will cover our nose next time. We're sorry!"

"I accept your apology. Does your throat hurt?"

Webber nodded.

"When I was a young boy, my mother would make me some tea with honey to soothe a sore throat," Maxwell said, thinking out loud. "I am not so sure if it will work, but I can try to make you some tea, perhaps."

Webber's eyes— all eight of them— lit up. "Tea? That sounds wonderful, Mr. Maxwell!"

"We don't have a lot to work with," Maxwell continued. "But I'm sure I can improvise.

"Go sleep while the tea is getting ready," Maxwell ordered softly. Webber nodded and curled up on the straw roll, holding the Lying Robot and the thermal stone close.

Maxwell walked over to the crockpot and threw in two pieces of ice, honey, and some flower petals. He hoped this would work, he really did. This place… this place was no place for a child, especially not an ill child. And though it technically wasn't fully his fault, he had to claim _some_ responsibility for sending Webber here.

Oh dear, it appeared that the tea was going to take longer than expected. This was good news and bad news— good news because this meant that the crockpot was actually going to yield something of use and not a wet goop. Bad news because it meant that Webber would have to suffer with a sore throat for longer.

While the crockpot gurgled and sputtered, Maxwell kept an eye on Webber. The poor child couldn't seem to fall asleep— they tossed and turned, and every time they managed to fall asleep, they'd cough and wake themselves up. They shivered from the coolness of the endothermic fire one moment, and began to sweat and hug the cold thermal stone close the other. Maxwell remembered the many days he had spent at home as a child, suffering from fevers. He recalled feeling like his body was on fire one moment, then frozen over the other. This was probably what Webber was experiencing.

"You alright, pal?" Maxwell called. As much as he tried to hide it, concern was heard in his voice.

"Um, yes, sir," Webber said. "I don't feel well, that's all."

Webber sat up began to cough. Minutes upon minutes passed, but the coughing didn't subside. Each one sounded more painful than the next, filling Maxwell with fear.

He walked over, crouched down, and gave Webber some firm pats on the back. "Breathe, pal— can you breathe? Steady, now, steady."

Webber coughed and coughed, the phlegm rumbling in their chest. Once the sputum was more or less cleared, Webber's breathing returned to normal and they closed their eyes.

"I can breathe," they said, though their voice was weak now. Loud wheezing was heard as Webber attempted to steady their breaths.

"Your breathing sounds like a train whistle. Take it easy the rest of the day."

Suddenly, the crockpot's sputtering ceased. "The tea is ready," Maxwell commented, walking over and lifting the lid off of the crockpot. What swirled within was a pink, translucent liquid that emitted a pleasant aroma. It seemed that it actually turned out… decent.

Maxwell washed out one of the healing salve bowls— unfortunately, he had nothing better for Webber to use as a mug, so this would have to suffice.

"Drink it down, pal," Maxwell said, bringing over the bowl full of the makeshift tea and sitting next to Webber.

"It smells scrumptious, Mr. Maxwell!" Webber said, flashing a sharp-fanged smile. "Thanks so much!"

They drained the bowl, and their jaws were suddenly forced open with a yawn they couldn't suppress.

"You should get back to sleep," Maxwell said. "Err… sleep is important when you're ill."

"Mum always said that, too," Webber said, yawning again. They suddenly leaned forward, laying their head in Maxwell's lap.

Maxwell stiffened at this sudden movement, but he didn't object. If Webber needed a parental figure to make them feel better when they were feeling unwell, then maybe Maxwell could put his aloofness aside for once and just roll with it. After all, it'd be the decent thing to do.

In contrast to earlier when Webber tossed and turned on the straw roll, they fell right asleep within minutes, curling up into a fetal position. Maxwell looked down, a shadow of a smile on his face.

"Sleep well, kid," Maxwell said, patting Webber's back.


End file.
